Short Order Grilling

Feral freight boxes on the midnight boundary;
Bugles and epaulets sink like sugar in the rain,
Heart beast flutters, roads signs and bullet holes
Pass the time.

Honey is love and the city a concrete hive,
Worker bees low and not humble
But words burn deeper than the Stanley knife tease,
When mixed with vim, a cocktail of forces
In the maverick rows of green bottled minds.

Creations heals a miden of scar tissues and knotted intentions,
Something amiss breeds hope unrequited and delectable;
Acid rain erodes the detritus and coaxes the
Grotesques asphalt to appease the soles.

Honoured ghosts you are beatific in the marble forest creeks,
Speak now for our virtues are brackish and needy,
Our Gods left us diseased on the short order grill
Where all immigrant flesh is broiled
And desensitized and tranquilized.

We are presented as a cripple
Beneath the flashing bulbs of bucolic banality.

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